


Go Back to Sleep

by interdimensionalhitchhiker84



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angels, Gen, Marcus is terrified, Sad Ending, and a bit insane, but no main characters, lots of death, not at all nice angels, understandably so, very bad Erikas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2837993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interdimensionalhitchhiker84/pseuds/interdimensionalhitchhiker84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus was a normal kid, until the monsters came.  Or were they angels?  But in between the voices and the bodies, there really wasn't any hope for his life to stay normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go Back to Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for my wtnv secret santa recipient, tumblr user glassxrose, and is based off of the song "Counting Bodies Like Sheep" by A Perfect Circle and the episode "The Debate". Enjoy. <3

“ **Go back to sleep.** ” Marcus shuddered violently at the echoing, unnatural chorus of voices in his head. He’d been hearing then since he was a child, but he’d never gotten used to them. He lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes, shivering as he wrapped his arms around himself.

  
“ **Count the sheep. Count the sheep. Count the bodies like sheep** ,” the voices intoned.

  
Marcus cut off the scream in the back of his throat with a half-hearted groan and rolled over to bury his face in the pillow.

  
The bodies. There were so, so many bodies. He was ten when he saw the first one, though it certainly wasn’t the first to result from his “protectors.” He’d been just leaving his house when he saw the huge, terrifying winged creatures fly down to intercept a person walking on the sidewalk towards him. They’d tackled the man to the ground and ripped out his throat. They had then turned to him, and the voices filled his head, so much louder than they’d ever been before that moment.

  
“ **I’ll be the one to protect you from your enemies and all your demons. I'll be the one to protect you from a will to survive and a voice of reason. I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and your choices, son. They're one in the same. I must isolate you… Isolate and save you from yourself…** ”

  
He’d vomited and then he’d fainted.

  
They’d tried to lock him away at every turn since then, showering him with money so he could build towers to lock himself away in, but he’d never complied, yelling and screaming at them until he finally realized it was useless, and that by yelling at monsters, he’d be locked away in a mental hospital and he’d have done their job for them.  
The bodies never stopped. Every time they thought he was in danger, for whatever reason, another person would drop, usually in an unnecessarily gory fashion. He’d been witness to hundreds now. Nine hundred eighty six. He knew that there were more—so many more—but those were the ones that he had seen.

  
When the nightmares began, that was when they’d started their most horrifying refrain. “ **Count the bodies like sheep.** ” They didn’t understand why the bodies frightened him or kept him from sleeping. “ **Count the bodies like sheep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep.** ” Night after night after night. It only made the nightmares worse.

  
When he was twenty two, he had no choice but to comply with their wishes to a certain extent. His parents lay dead on the floor and he simply couldn’t continue. And so he had gone. “ **Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils, see, they don’t care about you like I do.** ” Manipulative monsters. He found a town that didn’t exist and he stayed there. Isolated from the world, if not from everyone.

  
The bodies had stopped then, mostly. They still came, but the deaths were attributed to the other horrors of the town instead of him now. He sat in his giant house, his hands over his ears as he shed the tears that almost hadn’t stopped in twelve years.

  
He stood in front of his large glass windows, looking out on the world he could hardly venture into. “ **Don't fret, Precious, I'm here. Step away from the window. Go back to sleep.** ” He closed his eyes and breathed.

  
“ **Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep.** ”

  
He sobbed, went back to his bed, and let the nightmares take him once more, the bodies filling his world with constant pain.

  
Rebelling was the worst thing he’d ever done.

  
“And speaking of your opponents, let’s meet our last candidate for mayor,” Cecil said. “It’s an honor to introduce our wealthiest citizen, and now potential new mayor, billionaire Marcus Vanston! Welcome!”

  
“Yup! Hey. I mean, uh, whatever. All this? This is…this is whatever. You know, I used to own a dragon.” It was true.  
The dragon looked furious. “Excuse me? What an inappropriate thing to say!”

  
“I agree with Mr. McDaniels’ gray head. Ownership of sentient life is cruel and unconscionable,” the Faceless Old Woman interjected.

  
“Yeah. Well it was great. It had eight heads, though, not just five. Yeah, I pretty much used it for commuting to work.” That wasn’t true. The monsters would never let him go to work. A job was out of the question. Think of the people that would die. Think of all the bodies. But maybe this would be different. The monsters hadn’t killed anyone in over a week.

  
The dragon hissed.

  
The debate went on.

  
Marcus texted the man who managed his money in the outside world. It was a miracle this one had survived so long. He almost liked him, but he knew he couldn’t get attached. He defended his table. That table was important. That table was his parents. He declined to offer comments on what didn’t affect him. Cecil took another caller.

  
“This is Erika?”

  
Marcus froze in his seat, his eyes open wide in terror. He didn’t hear any more.

  
“I’m not crying,” he said, trying so hard to convince himself of that. The voices in his head were overwhelming, blocking out all else.

  
“I said I’m not crying.”

  
“No, I’m not.”

  
The voices. The voices said he was crying. The voices told him not to cry. They told him to go back to sleep. “ **Count the bodies like sheep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep.** ”  
The voices faded slightly and the world came back into the edges of his mind. “I’m fine. Next question.”

  
The world continued around him. “Marcus? Are you crying?” Cecil asked.

  
“Hang on. Nope, I’m fine. I’m—I’m fine.”

  
“You are needed, Marcus. You are needed now,” the one voice over the phone said.

  
“ **Don't fret, Precious, I'm here** ,” the many voices said. Drums beat. He could hear drums. So many drums. He screamed, but he made no sound. “ **Count the bodies like sheep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep.** ” He kept screaming. “ **Safe. To the rhythm of war drums. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. I’ll be the one to protect you from your enemies and all your demons. I'll be the one to protect you from a will to survive and a voice of reason. I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and your choices, son. They're one in the same. I must isolate you… Isolate and save you from yourself… To the rhythm of war drums. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep.** ” He kept on screaming. “ **Safe, isolated, safe, I’m here, to the rhythm of war drums, it is time, protect you. Go back to sleep.** ”

  
And then he was no more. And then he was one of the monsters. And then he was the one making bodies. Making bodies for some other poor, poor young boy. And he was the one who didn’t understand why the boy cried. And then he was the one who said “Go back to sleep.”

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
